Incarnadine
by intoxicatedasphyxiation
Summary: A lead on scarlet eyes takes Kurapika east to the countries that house the enigmatic ninja villages and utilize techniques so different from those he knows. Meanwhile, the Ryodan is also on the move… with revenge and a search for red eyes on their agenda.
1. Chapter 1

**Incarnadine**

Written By intoxicatedasphyxiation

**Original:** Hunter x Hunter by Togashi Yoshihiro. Naruto by Kishimoto Masashi. Standard disclaimers apply.

**Summary:** A lead on the scarlet eyes of the Kurata clan takes Kurapika east – to the foreign countries that house the enigmatic ninja villages and utilize techniques so different from those he knows. Meanwhile, the Genei Ryodan is also on the move… with revenge and a search for red eyes on their agenda.

**Dedication:** To all those out there who enjoy the meshing of worlds within words.

**The Origin of the Title: **As with anything usually associated with Kurapika, the colour 'red' serves as the most prominent feature, and I found 'Incarnadine' to be most apt in terms of finding a title for this piece. 'Incarnadine' is a very malleable word, in the sense that it can be used as an adjective, a noun, and a verb. As a noun, it serves to describe the blood red colour of raw flesh – a synonym of red, so to speak. As an adjective, it can serve as a deeper elaboration of the colour red, for it relates to the flesh as well – thus eliciting imagery of a more graphic, blood-related nature. I like the word's allusions to flesh and blood; rather than focusing on the fleshy aspects of its meaning, it serves to unravel the layers of human complexity beneath a simple colour. Think of Kurapika – he's not just scarlet eyes and revenge; he's a whole series of morally-conflicting beliefs, goals, and mercy versus justice wrapped into a mind of rationale and human emotion. As for the verb, think of all the characters in manga, movies, and literature who delve into the tragedy of revenge – the digger they deep, the more bitter they fall, and don't they only serve to incarnadine their own hands?

**Notes:** This will largely take place in the Naruto universe, seeing that there's far more information about it. The time period for HxH will be after the Greed Island Arc (most likely running in conjunction with the Chimera Ant Arc, since the Genei Ryodan and Kurapika are not part of the main focus in the manga). As for Naruto, the time period will be a little more vague – I'd like the flexibility to move the characters around (since there's so much going on in the manga), so probably just after the time-skip, but before any major Akatsuki activity during that time. Before the invasion of Konoha, to put it simply. Anything I write is based solely on the manga of both series – if there are any abnormalities, feel free to point them out. I'm aiming to be as accurate as possible.

* * *

**.01**

The dowsing chain had pointed east.

Not quite literally to the east, as one would imagine, but the dangling chain had swung across the map, and pointed beyond the edges of its paper folds. Kurapika's forehead had crinkled then – both in confusion and surprise, before withdrawing the chain, taking a breather, and resuming his_ hatsu_ again. He made sure to pin the world map to the table this time, smoothening out the slightest of folds before letting the dowsing chain do its duty once more.

He held his hand over the centre of the map, concentrating on his target, letting the ability manifest – fuelled half by _nen_, half by hope, just as the chain began to move of its own accord. It swung over the major continents, past even the corrupt republics and places plagued by civil warfare, before hovering beyond the oceanic borders of the map –

And the chain lingered there, diagonally, stiff, and aching towards a direction beyond the eastern black border of the world map.

Kurapika called off his technique with a sigh, and the chain swung loosely once more, unbound and free. It had been the fifteenth world map this week to provide him with this result. Shoving the map and its various paperweights onto the floor, he slammed his fists against the table, a growl on his lips as he silently cursed the abnormalities plaguing his search. The first time it happened, he had blamed the map for being insufficient in detail, and raided the nearest bookstore for all the maps it sold. He had even bought a comprehensive Hunter-exclusive atlas book, but each time he dangled the dowsing chain over any of the nations, it turned away from the centre, prying eastward, until he had run out of pages and geographic locations for the dowsing chain to settle on. He chose to question his chain next, fearing subterfuge, but upon testing with a variety of alternate subjects, the results revealed only one outcome: that it was fully functional, free from glitch or error.

Running his fingers through his hair, Kurapika let out another sigh – he was so close, yet again, but still so terribly far. The first time he had encountered a pair of eyes from his clan came during the York Shin Underground Auctions, when he had held them in his hands, only to watch them depart soon after – he had been told that they had vanished from the Nostrad Clan soon after the auctions came to a close, but nobody knew how or when or why. Kurapika had moved on then, following other leads. He did so freely with some degree of ease; the _Genei Ryodan_ was no longer a major threat, or at the very least, its head – Kurapika took some degree of pride and comfort in binding the ability of the group's leader to produce _nen_, as well as excommunicating him from his subordinates by disabling their ability to converse. It was Hisoka, after all, who had said that the Spider would only keep functioning as long as the head was still attached to its body.

So he had continued his search – not for the _Ryodan_, this time, but for the eyes of his brothers, his sisters, and his home. Through a couple of contacts made through a series of seedy jobs that demanded for skills and questioned no origins, it wasn't long before he tracked down a single name associated to the scarlet eyes. With sufficient research and private enquires of his own, it wasn't long before he acquired an image of the man as well – and that was all Kurapika needed to begin his hunt.

Only, the dowsing chain seemed to imply that the man was hidden beyond the borders of the world.

Reaching for the Hunter identification card embedded deep within one of the hidden pockets in his attire, he reminded himself of the single purpose for his existence – the reason why he had gone so far as to take the Hunter Examination, attach himself to the shadiest of employers, and embed his _nen_ so deep with rules that it served as a double-edged sword in the waiting – to avenge his clan once and for all. It didn't matter how long it took – Kurapika had decided a long time ago that he would destroy the _Genei Ryodan_, put an end to the trafficking of his clan's eyes, punish all those involved in the black market acquisitions of the eyes, and once and for all, gather the eyes of his family and take them home.

Stepping away from the table, Kurapika turned to the leave the hostel room once more. This man was his first proper lead since the dispersion of the mafia community after the auctions. He was out there, and Kurapika knew that he would track him down, regardless of means necessary.

For now, he would simply have to expand his search scope.

* * *

"So… how much did you say this guy was worth again?" Phinx asked, an eyebrow raised, as he glanced down at the body lying just before his feet. Unimpressed, he turned to Shalnark, who was busy rifling through the pages of an untitled book, before glancing over to Feitan, who stood nonchalantly beside the body of another fallen man. Feitan merely shrugged, unfazed – he displayed none of the disappointment that his partner was emanating.

"Aha, found him!" Shalnark declared, his fingers falling to a stop on an open page marked by an image, followed by a few lines of text. "Says here that he's a former_ shinobi_ of the Hidden Stone Village. A _missing-nin_ is the appropriate term for those who defect from their village of origin, it seems. And it's signified by the jagged line through that symbol there." He gestured to the headband on the fallen ninja's head.

"I don't get it," Phinx replied, "if he abandoned his village, why's he still wearing the thing?"

"Possibly to emphasize the fact that he's disloyal; symbols are taken pretty seriously over here. They use them to portray their identity or purpose." Shalnark replied, "And this guy's worth about 20 million _ryo_. The one Feitan killed is worth…" he flipped a few more pages before coming to a halt, "22 million."

"How much is that worth in _jenis_?" Shizuku asked, bending down to poke at the headband of the fallen ninja.

"I believe our currency's much stronger, but I can't say for sure. Probably around the same figures, give or take a few million…? But it should be enough to keep us going while we're on this side of the world." Shalnark replied, snapping the book shut in his hand, "And now that we've got a hold of this book, we can simply keep hunting them down if we need more resources."

"Or we could just steal." Feitan voiced, "We're the _Ryodan_, after all."

"Indeed, though the dispersion of cities here poses a bit of a problem in regards to that notion," Shalnark responded, "Most of the countries go for miles without so much as a rural village. I imagine that we were pretty lucky to even stumble upon these two so far from the main cities."

"Then let's just find the nearest town, then. I'm sick of wandering in this barren place – it's been miles and all I can see are rocks, then more rocks." Frustrated, Phinx crossed his arms, before turning to the lone female member of their troupe, "Shizuku, get Deme-chan to hold onto the bodies until we find the nearest underground trade-post, and then we'll move on to… where exactly?"

"We'll cut across the border to the Land of Wind," Shalnark replied, "Hopefully Bonolenov, Karuto, and Franklin, and Coltopi will have finished by then."

"Let's go, then." Feitan announced, and a monstrosity of a vacuum cleaner appeared in Shizuku's hands, accentuated only by the burst of aura that fueled its materialization.

* * *

Kurapika wondered if the archaeological Hunters felt the same upon discovering the ancient ruins that made and flourished their careers.

Not that he had discovered something previously undiscovered, but the effect was nonetheless the same in his mind. It wasn't common knowledge, and he'd be damned if he wasn't a Hunter – the access site he'd grown used to using in public places to avoid IP-address trackbacks had proven useful, once more. Of course, seeing that the subject was considered classified to a degree, Kurapika had to make the tedious decision of parting with a sizable chunk of his income for the sake of scholastic curiosity. The hefty fee was worth all monetary forfeiture, though, when the Hunters-only website coughed up an encyclopedic entry about the congregation of foreign countries in the east.

_Or segregation, to be more accurate_, Kurapika mused, casting aside all thoughts of political correctness and wordplay to focus on the rest of the information at hand. The voice on the monitor continued to explain the various treaties between the 'western alliances', which included everything from Zaban down to the corners of East Goruto and the neo-luddite nation of NGL, and the 'eastern alliances' – uncharted on most world maps and exclusive only to those with approved-business ordeals. It was near impossible to gain access to the continent without a Hunter license, so to speak, and even then – getting approval was another uncertainty. The continent was noted for being strict about its customs, lifestyles, and political systems – always coexisting between war and peace, ignorant of affairs beyond their oceanic borders. Kurapika wondered if they were merely negligent or paranoid, but chose to brush it aside as the voice continued to elaborate about the strict laws enforced in the various nations – it was almost military. He figured that movement would probably be a little constricted then; the notion of watching eyes was not a comforting one.

Printing out various informative guides and a general map of the world, Kurapika spread the latter out across the table before him, and materialized his dowsing chain once more. He felt his _nen_ streamline down his fingers as the chain swung across the image of the foreign continent, hovering from border to border before falling to a stop over one of the countries – beside the foreign script that seemed to mark the country's name in its native tongue, a translation was marked beside it, and Kurapika beheld this new discovery the way a Hunter regarded the unknown – with purpose, for his previous roadblock had now been unraveled, undone. He pronounced it on his lips as the cogs of his mind spun into motion once more –

"Land of Wind…?"

* * *

**Next Chapter:** Kurapika cuts an unfavorable deal. The _Ryodan_ members meet up in the Land of Wind. A prisoner is acquired; broken bones ensue.


	2. Chapter 2

**Incarnadine**

Written By intoxicatedasphyxiation

**

* * *

**

**.02**

"Nostrad, huh?" asked the man before him, his head bent over a series of documents as he scanned over them for the umpteenth time. To the modest observer, he might've looked like a stereotypical street punk well past the average age – black leather jacket and piercings across his lips, nose, and eyebrows to match his highlighted hair, but to the well-informed Hunter, he was a man that provided access, means, and job opportunities. Kurapika only knew him by the alias Marco and nothing more, for the man gave nothing away – at least, not without a fee. Over the past few months, he had provided Kurapika with most of his clients, or rather employers, considering the types of businesses Kurapika seemed to be interested in – bodyguard work, for the most part, as well as anything in the 'collection' industry. At Kurapika's request, Marco had been on the lookout for 'odd' job requests – particularly in regards to body parts or biological, hereditary interest. There had been a few over the past year, though the market wasn't big – but interest in gruesome paraphernalia wasn't unheard of either. At times, Marco wondered if the kid before him had a fetish for such things too, despite his straight-laced, matter-of-fact exterior – it wasn't common for a person for his age to dabble in such things, but then again, it wasn't common to find Hunters his age either. Kurapika also had a habit of returning, too – despite the high mortality rate in the businesses he dabbled in, and Marco secretly mused if he was becoming fond of the kid. He shrugged the thought aside as he eyed the kid's reaction to his question – not a nod, not a sound, but no denial either. He had come to learn the boy's manner of cold communication over their brief interactions from time to time; a lack of denial usually meant 'yes' when Kurapika was involved.

"Dangerous to be dealing with the Nostrad Clan this time round," Marco continued, stamping and matching various documents while the boy across the table folded his arms indifferently across his chest, "there've been rumors that the Nostrad girl lost her fortune-telling ability, and her father was never popular amongst the various mafia clans anyway. Lots of enemies are starting to fall back into the picture, and if the rumors are true – the clan's as good as dead this time next year."

"They're not completely powerless if they can still get me through customs," Kurapika replied slowly, "and that's what I was counting on."

"And how did you manage that?" Marco asked, curious – half the documents on the table before him now were almost impossible to attain without some form of higher clearance, and yet, the boy had nonchalantly waltzed in with them and asked him to start the visa approval process and passport documentation, "There are few things a person can hold as leverage with a mafia clan. What did you do, blackmail the daughter? If I recall correctly, she's into body parts too… just like you."

A spike of hostility seemed to cloud the room and Marco glanced up, eyebrow raised as the feeling instantly shelved itself away. A chuckle dwindled on his lips – the kid was a bit of a complexity, sometimes.

"I got a lead on something both Neon Nostrad and I have an interest in, and so I convinced them to contract me," Kurapika replied, pausing to select his words carefully – he didn't like discussing his personal endeavors with others; even if he and Marco had a healthy business relationship, they weren't exactly what Kurapika would call friends, "part of their deal is to get me access into the eastern continent, without hindrances of any sort – legal or illegal, and in return… Nostrad's daughter gets to keep the object once I acquire it."

"Doesn't sound like a fair trade to me… or to you." Marco mused. He had been eyeing Kurapika's body language and the boy had tensed slightly at the mention of Neon Nostrad getting to keep the… object, whatever it was.

"It was the only way," he replied, looking away, as though worried that eye contact would give him away, "Plus, I've worked with them before – I know how to find them, in the event that _anything_ should change." Marco noted the temporary chill in the boy's voice; it was as though something darker resided beneath the kid's pale skin.

But then again, Marco was never one to give anything away. "Be warned, though," he said coolly, "considering their state of affairs, they might drop the contract with you halfway."

"Just as long as they can get me in," Kurapika replied, eyes cast downward as he spoke, "_nothing else matters._"

"Whatever you say, kid." Marco shrugged, adjusting a webcam attached to his computer, "Now sit up straight and smile. You don't want an ugly passport picture."

* * *

"So, did you find anything useful?" Phinx asked as Franklin dropped an unconscious form onto the ground before their feet. The body was draped in a beige-brown garment – a seemingly native outfit, for it seemed to match the colour of the sand that drenched across the desert floor and swept across like air whenever a breeze fell in tow.

"Just this guy," Franklin replied, "Judging by the entourage he was travelling with, he's an ambassador or minister of sorts – on his way to negotiate terms and such with the leader of the Hidden Sand Village, or so he claims."

"Pencil pushers are usually easy to break." Feitan remarked, as Phinx nudged the body with his foot. The form moaned groggily as Phinx nudged him again.

"Oh, wake up already –" Karuto announced, annoyed, before stepping down onto the man's hand. A notable crunch could be heard as the man jolted awake, a scream on his tongue as he took in the sight before him.

They were strangers; all eight of them. He recognized four of them from the vicious attack on his entourage. _His entourage… _

"_Where are they?_" he demanded, "_What did you do to them?_"

"Who?" Feitan asked, a shrug on his shoulders.

"Oh," Bonolenov replied, "He probably means his bodyguards and all – it was quite a sizable group."

"Does he even have to ask?" Phinx asked, flabbergasted.

"Well, the non-combative types tend to be more oblivious," Shalnark added, "They usually can't tell the strong from the weak. Plus, we probably don't look like much of a threat to him – I've noticed that only those with headbands seem to be taken seriously around here."

"They're dead." Franklin assured the man, "We slaughtered them through and through."

"And you will be too if you don't tell us what we want to know." Feitan elaborated, a sliver of _nen _excitedly embalming his hand.

"_Do you have any idea who I am?_" the man demanded, "Both the _Daimyo_ of the Land of Wind and the _Kazekage_ will not stand for this!"

"Who the fuck are they?" Phinx asked, glancing at Feitan, who equally shrugged. The man stared at them incredulously.

"Once the _Kazekage_ learns that my entourage was compromised, all of you will be hunted down!" he shouted, as though to emphasize his point. The _Ryodan_ merely stared at him, unfazed.

"Like we care." Feitan replied, stepping forward to grasp the man's shoulder tightly between his _nen_-infused fingers. A large snap could be heard, followed by another paralytic scream. "What?" Feitan eyed the tearing man coldly, who had rolled over in a fit of hysteria and pain, "It was just a clavicle."

"So who are these people he's talking about, anyway?" Coltopi asked, as Shizuku bent down to poke the injured man. Further screams could be heard as she nudged his shoulder, as well as the back of his hand. Karuto merely chuckled in turn.

"The _Kazekage_, I believe, is the leader of the Hidden Sand Village – which serves as the main military force of this nation." Shalnark replied, pleased to share his acquired knowledge – he had questioned a few individuals upon their arrival to the continent, and was pleased to know that the structures worked uniformly across the various nations. Easy logic could be more easily applied and patching such pieces together was what he was good at. "Basically, each of the five largest nations in this continent has two leaders each – one is the country's overall leader, the _Daimyo_, while the other is known as a _Kage_, who is in charge of the Hidden Village of their nation. In most cases, both leaders have equal power – though they usually operate separately, according to their own systems." He glanced at their prisoner for confirmation. The man merely moaned.

"Well, whoever they are," Phinx assured the man with a grin, "you can be sure that if they send anyone after us, we'll just kill them." He inched closer to the man, who shivered where he lay, broken as the hot sand burned against his skin.

"Now tell us what we want to know." Feitan smiled mercilessly, feeling the_ nen _jolting smoothly through his fingers once more.

* * *

Kurapika fingered the documents in his possession, eyeing the paramount of text, followed by a series of stamps and signatures, each one by a different office – a different level of approval. He eyed the notary affixed to his newly acquired passport too – a series of stamps, followed by a barcode and another image of himself. This one was the visa. The feeling of such tedious documents between his fingers was almost foreign in itself – Kurapika had grown too used to the free, easy access granted by his Hunter's license, as well as the various luxuries they provided. The need for travel documents and approval was almost daunting, as the ship loomed onwards towards the eastern continent.

"I'd hang on tight to those if I were you," said a voice, and Kurapika looked up to see a man at least two decades older standing before him. There was a large machete tucked into his belt, and an overgrown beard covered most of his lower face. Kurapika folded the documents and tucked them safely away into his overcoat, just under his left breast.

"First time travelling to the east?" he asked, and Kurapika nodded curtly.

"I'm surprised someone as young as you got access; you're probably one of the youngest I've seen. Save for some refugees. You know, from East Goruto and such. Damn dictatorships." He paused, "But you don't strike me as a refugee."

Kurapika expelled the air from his lungs. He didn't like the prying, but he felt that the man wasn't going to let up too easily either. His eyes wandered to the machete on the man's belt once more.

"Contract," he replied, "I'm a Hunter."

The man merely whistled. "Would've loved to try out that exam if I could, but the job calls me away. Guess it wouldn't matter much anyway – being a Hunter or not means nothing once you've reached the eastern alliances."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, over there – those_ shinobi_ and whatnot, they don't really care what that card is, or what it means. Heck, most of them haven't even heard of the western alliances. I guess you could say the same for most people back in the west, but these people here? Even if they do know, they don't care to know – I've never heard of a single one of them bothering to travel, not to Zaban, not to anywhere. It's like they're happy in this private world of their own."

"Well, isn't ignorance bliss for some?"

"It's just close-mindedness, to me." The man shrugged, "But who am I to judge them, eh? I'm just a man who profits from this choice of theirs."

It took a shout from the deck to break the silence wavering between them; it was an announcement that the eastern continent was only half a day's journey away. Kurapika let out another sigh and glanced down at the waves that rushed against the hull of the ship.

So close, but yet so far. And the days were only getting longer.

* * *

"We've been through two countries, and this is all we get?" Phinx asked, annoyed, "And if I recall correctly, that Earth country we came from was just as barren as this desert here."

"Well, couldn't we just raid these Hidden Villages?" Shizuku asked, as Deme-chan sucked up the remains of their prisoner – blood, detached appendages, clothes, and hair.

"Not until we can confirm an affirmative source," Franklin responded, "otherwise it might prove hectic – we don't want thousands of these ninja folk on our backs, and we don't know how close some of these villages are to each other. If they have allies from other countries, we'd have more than one military we'd have to deal with. These people are more organized than the mafia community – and we're the ones on unfamiliar territory here."

"Plus," Bonolenov added, "they use something different from _nen_. Though they don't seem to know what _nen_ is either, we still can't afford to delve into things we know so little about."

"_That –_" Karuto spoke, gesturing where their late prisoner died only moments before, "didn't seem very useful with that topic, either."

"Pencil pushers." Feitan scoffed, "I propose we catch ourselves one of those ninja folk. We can just ask, then."

"We'll just have to wait then," Franklin replied, "If we take into account the possibility that the pencil pusher wasn't lying about how important he was –"

"Oh, he wasn't lying." Feitan interrupted, "I questioned the body, not the spirit."

"Taking that to be true, then." Franklin continued, "It means that they'll send someone, or some team after us. If they're any good, they'll find us."

"Let's find a town first," Phinx proposed, "I need a damn drink and this climate is pissing me off. If they show up then, we'll just pluck them off, one by one."

* * *

**Next Chapter:** Kurapika arrives; the new continent is foreboding. Hunter licenses mean nothing in a land segregated from the west. The _Ryodan_ members are both intrigued and annoyed; their usual take-all-and-give-nothing-back modus operandi is falling faulty to the impeccable loyalties of honour-bound _shinobi_. As always, the new challenge is welcomed with open arms and broken collarbones.


	3. Chapter 3

**Incarnadine**

Written By intoxicatedasphyxiation

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* * *

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**.03**

"Nineteen dead in total, and the minister is unaccounted for."

"A kidnapping?"

"Most likely."

"Shit." Kankuro surveyed the scene before him, though all it screamed was the aftermath of a massacre, the stench of blood and initial decay wrenching through the air. Judging from the state of the bodies, he could tell that it had hardly been a day, and yet the early stages of putrefaction were dawning on the fallen bodies. That was the problem with the country's desert climate and thick clothes – all that body heat and sun only served to speed up the horrors of decomposition. He shuddered to think of what the scene might have unraveled instead if the village wasn't expecting the minister and his entourage; the sight might have been undiscovered for days, or even weeks. Few _shinobi_ took this route, and even fewer civilians bothered to head this way at all – it was all sand and breeze for miles: the Hidden Sand Village's natural fortress, at best. There was only one conceivable conclusion, and it was evident on the faces of the three other _shinobi_ studying the scene. "This needs to be reported back to the _Kazekage_ – and to him alone. The situation needs to be contained before we inform the _Daimyo _that his closest advisor never made it to our village."

He eyed the dead before him – ten headbands in total, all from their village. Kankuro recognized them as the two separate cells the _Kazekage _had personally dispatched to escort the minister upon the _Daimyo's _request. The other six appeared to be the minister's personal bodyguards, judging by the weapons scattered close to their bodies – they were custom-made swords, with emblems of loyalty engraved into their hilts. The remaining three victims had been women in civilian garb – none of them the minister's wife.

"It's far too messy," the_ shinobi_ now closest to him commented, "It looks almost… random. Like a whimsical massacre, more than a planned kidnapping." Kankuro glanced at the blood work; the bodies were streamed with countless holes, some the size of fists – leaving behind only a mess of bloodied bodies rendered half to pulp. It was as though a rain of fastidious _kunai _had rained upon the entourage – and from the extent of the damage done to the bodies, Kankuro could only guess that they were _chakra_-laden too, for the wounds were thorough and unforgiving. The only problem with that assumption, however, was the lack of scattered weapons – there was no abundance of _kunai_ and _shuriken_ despite the countless inflictions, and the wounds didn't look like they were caused by swords either.

"A very powerful _jutsu_, if anything." Kankuro replied, "Though I've never heard of a jutsu that inflicts this sort of damage. Tearing a mass number of holes through flesh? And all of them, at that."

"You're suggesting… that whoever did this… did this by hand?" One of the chuunin asked, doubtfully.

"It's the only other possibility. There's no evidence of weaponry here." Kankuro circled the remnants of the entourage, "It's just pure brutality." He pointed at the bloodied mass where the women were entangled, an unsightly entwine of hair, terror, and tissue. "No hesitation whatsoever. Look at the way the bodies are positioned – it's like they didn't even have time to react." He looked at the carriages, as well as the fallen horses – the destructive holes had ripped through them too, as though they were only made of cardboard, and nothing more.

He turned to the chuunin closest to him and signaled him over. "Return to the village and tell the _Kazekage_ that we'll be starting our search at the southern town closest from here. The search teams should be dispatched to the various towns within fifty miles of this site; it's impossible to cross this country without making a few stops – so it's highly possible that the kidnappers haven't crossed the border yet. The minister's life is the priority here. Should any of the other teams encounter them…" He let out a sigh, which didn't escape unnoticed.

"Let's just say that we might have a hostage situation… _if we're lucky_." Kankuro added grimly, and the man disappeared swiftly, message en route.

* * *

"How long do you think they'll take?" Phinx asked, arms folded across his chest as he leaned back in his chair, feet prepped up against the tabletop. His jacket was unzipped, revealing a loose-fitting sleeveless shirt underneath. He hated the heat, and the number of iced drinks he had consumed thus far still seemed incapable of soothing the parching heat. Glancing over at Feitan, he silently wondered how the shorter man managed to bear the heat in his all-covering, black attire.

"Give them a while; they need to discover the bodies first, after all." Franklin replied, taking a sip of his own drink, "The minister revealed that he was expected to arrive today, anyway."

"Plus," Coltopi added, "This town's not very big; I've made at least a dozen copies and scattered them multi-directionally between this town and the last. If anyone so much as passes through, I'll know."

"Tell me again why we're not waiting for them at the first town we stopped at?" Feitan asked, irritable as usual, "I thought our objective was to catch a ninja, but here we are, waiting for ninjas to catch up to us."

"Bad service," Phinx replied, chewing at his straw, "waiting for god-knows-how-long in a shithole like that without proper iced tea? You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

"It's a shame Pakunoda isn't with us any longer," Shalnark hummed over his drink, forcing a tepid silence over the group, "We'd probably have retrieved all the information we want by now. With absolute certainty, at that."

"And here I thought you took great pride in being a fundamental part of the information gathering division of the group." Phinx smirked, "Or will we need to begin a search for your replacement too?"

"Easy, Phinx." Franklin beckoned, though Shalnark merely smiled.

"That's the thing about us," Shalnark replied matter-of-factly, "we're easily replaceable. Pakunoda's skill set was exclusive – of the specialization class, at that. How many people have you heard of that can read thoughts and memories like she could? She was as rare as a _nen _eraser."

"Speaking of _nen_ erasers," Shizuku interrupted, her hand raised to garner attention, "have you heard from _Danchou_ yet?"

"He hasn't called." Shalnark responded, pulling his cell phone from his pocket to double check for missed messages. "Last Nobunaga texted me, though, he did say that Hisoka had convinced the eraser to do the job."

"Hisoka." Feitan spat, "Didn't he want to fight _Danchou_ or something?"

"Still does, I'd imagine." Franklin chuckled, "Machi didn't take lightly to that."

"Personally I'd rather Machi just put him to death the moment _Danchou's_ free from the damn _nen_." Phinx remarked, waving his empty glass at the nearest waitress for a refill.

"You doubt _Danchou_?" Feitan asked dryly, a sour expression on his lips.

"That's not what I fucking meant!" Phinx shot back angrily, "I just don't see why _Danchou_ should have to fight the likes of him."

"Apparently he's pretty strong." Bonolenov interjected, "_Danchou_ might even welcome the challenge."

"_Pfft_, what challenge? _Danchou _would be done with him in less than five."

"Just saying. They don't call him 'The Magician' from the way he dresses alone." The mummified man raised his hands in an open-gestured shrug.

"If he's so dangerous…" Karuto added softly, "Then shouldn't we be waiting with them?"

"It'll be fine," Shalnark replied coolly, "_Danchou_ can't be taken down easily, no matter how strong the opponent. Worse come to worst, Machi and Nobu'll be there to deal with the aftermath."

"And the_ nen_ eraser." Franklin added, "I believe _Danchou'll_ try to recruit him, should he prove successful. It's a rare enough trait that would safeguard against that Kurata kid."

"_Ugh_, don't even bring him up." Phinx said, slamming his glass against the table – not hard enough to shatter it, but enough to leave an impression, as a few passersby turned towards the unceremonious sound. "The brat pulled a dirty trick. That's all there is to it. He had his chance to kill _Danchou_, and he blew it on his friends. He'll never get a chance like that again." A strong silence followed, disrupted only by Shizuku as she slurped loudly towards the end of her drink. It was then that Coltopi turned towards the group, sharply nodding at once – garnering their full attention as he concentrated, as though counting in his head.

"Two of my structural copies have been breached," he announced, "There's a group of three, and a group of four. They're at opposite ends – the closest to us would be the group of four."

"Let's go, then." Phinx replied, flexing his joints as he stood up eagerly.

"They're fifteen minutes that way if we move at our fastest," Coltopi pointed northeast, "and that's assuming they don't leave my copy."

"I don't see why we can't just split up and torture them all." Feitan noted, "For us, it'd be child's play to round them up."

"Foreign ground, Feitan. We don't know how quickly they can summon backup, so it'd be best for us to move as a group until we dissect them, through and through." Franklin replied reassuringly as they set out, "It shouldn't take us long."

* * *

The man with the machete went by the name of Jonah.

Kurapika had acquired this little piece of information through the art of eavesdropping alone, as he wandered the decks, caring little for idle chatter in passing, until he heard a couple of seamen addressing the man as such. Those familiar with the seas seemed to know who Jonah was, and from the hearsay alone – it seemed that Jonah was a competent sailor in his own right too. Kurapika, on the other hand, was considered a negligible entity on the ship of deckhands – frequently ignored, though this suited to his advantage. He never considered himself the sociable type, after all.

Jonah spoke to him again when the ship docked at their intended destination. It was located just beyond the border of the Land of Wind in a neutral, and for the most part, demilitarized zone.

"It's the last time on this continent you'll see a semi-abundance of _nen_." Jonah joked, and Kurapika swore that he could count the number of conscious_ nen_ users on the fingers of his hands. It wasn't long before he found himself being pointed in the direction of a customs line. Jonah, on the other hand, had cargo to tend to – as an approved multiple-entry journeyman of his trade, the customs process he was subjected to was in an entirely different location altogether.

"Hey, kid." Jonah said to Kurapika, "Once you go beyond customs, you shouldn't refer to yourself as a Hunter anymore. Folks here tend to misinterpret these unfamiliar things, and you might be mistaken as a bounty hunter. The _shinobi_ folk really tend to hate them, you see. Many of the prominent ones have bounties on them by other villages, as well as the underground markets."

"So how should I address myself, then?"

"Tourist, traveler, civilian – those should work fine, especially if you want to visit those _shinobi_ villages. Keep your _nen_ under wraps too. The folks here use _chakra_, but it's still a source of energy nonetheless. They don't take kindly to potential spies, foreign threats, and such."

"So I heard." Kurapika replied, his travel papers clenched tightly in his hands.

"Anyway, kid." Jonah said, turning to head back to help with the unloading of cargo from the ship, "Hope to see you again, especially when you're done with whatever it is you're doing over here. Kurapika, wasn't it? It's the only name on the Captain's list I couldn't put to a face."

"Yes," he nodded, "Kurata Kurapika."

"Kurata, eh? Sounds familiar, almost." Jonah replied, and Kurapika's eyes slanted in response, "Anyway, good luck on your business."

"Likewise." Kurapika replied, watching as the man jogged back to the docks. He saw the sun loom in the sky and wondered how many more days he'd lose before chancing upon the target of his search.

* * *

"I am a _shinobi of the Sand_, and I am obligated to tell you _nothing_."

"Seriously?" Feitan asked, feeling the crack of the man's collarbone between his fingers. A shout of pain followed, only to fall on deaf ears.

"They're really starting to bore." Karuto replied, paper fan in hand to beat away the scorch of the sun.

"On the bright side," Shalnark pointed out, "we've learned that they channel their energy differently from us. For instance, we can extend our _nen_ to all parts of our body – flesh, skin, blood, and bones, while they can't seem to." He gestured to a paling shinobi who bled from where both his legs were separated from his body, parted just above the kneecaps. Turning to the dying _shinobi_, Shalnark tilted his head, "Can't you stop the bleeding? At all?"

"_Fuck… you…_" spouted the man, spurning an annoyed glare from Phinx, who stomped down on his left thigh. The man howled in pain as the blood flow only increased from the gaping wound.

"Useless." Feitan muttered, his grip tightening on the shoulder of the _shinobi _under his grip. "Might as well just finish that one off."

"Nah, let him bleed." Phinx replied, nudging at the man's maimed legs with his foot. The pool of blood spread across the sand, soaking the golden dust a rugged scarlet.

"Where's the minister?" Demanded the _shinobi_ under Feitan's hold. His teeth were bloody from the few hits he had received from Phinx much earlier during the little skirmish – one that proved futile as the team of four fell almost instantly to the foreigners, most of whom had watched from the side as Phinx made claim to taking down the team on his own.

"He just won't let up, will he?" Shalnark laughed, "I like his expression. It's so serious. Ubou and Nobu would've loved this."

"You scum are responsible for the massacre, are you not?" The man demanded, "_Kazekage-sama_ himself dispatched teams after you; it won't be long before you're brought to justice –"

"Oh, shut up." Feitan responded, snapping the man's other clavicle, eliciting another bout of curses in pain.

"Don't break him too much. That one over there's already useless," Shalnark noted, gesturing with a nod towards the bleeding mess beside Phinx, "and we've only got two more to go through if you break this one too." He turned to the two remaining _shinobi_ at Franklin's feet, bound and gagged in splendid horror as they beheld the fate of their teammates. They looked much younger in appearance, and reeked of less experience than their tortured seniors.

"Look, that minister trash you're looking for already threatened us, and we killed him." Phinx reasoned, crossing his arms across his chest, "It should be obvious by now that we don't really care who or what comes after us. We'll kill them. It's as simple as that. Just tell us what we want to know; it's not like our questions are hard."

The man merely glanced up, before spitting out saliva and blood at his feet. "_Fuck you_."

Phinx cracked his knuckles. "My turn, Feitan."

* * *

**Next Chapter: **The brutalities pile up, and Kankuro's team arrives too late to find the remnants of another massacre – this time, of one of the dispatched search teams. An analysis of the scene and a dying _shinobi's_ last words are all he has to keep on the trail of this cruel, elusive group.


End file.
